


nothin' says lovin' like somethin' from a coven

by staunchly_anonymous



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, M/M, Occult, Slow Burn, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7709152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staunchly_anonymous/pseuds/staunchly_anonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty and Jack meet for the first time under interesting circumstances. What do the cards hold for their future?</p><p>Or, another version of "the kitchen witch Bitty AU".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. rue and hawthorn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reginacoeli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reginacoeli/gifts).



Eric leaned his elbow on the counter, idly stirring his cafe au lait. The weather was just beginning to turn, the wind gaining a crisp, clean edge. Eric had opened the small window in the office behind the counter and a faint, cool breeze ushered itself through, making the candle flame from the constant prosperity spell flicker in its glass.

He was taking a small break from sorting through a shipment of items and re-stocking shelves. They’d had an uptick in business lately, though there was almost always someone in the store, looking through books or getting a reading or just generally poking around. Their store-made teas and bath products had gotten a few rave reviews in magazines, and ever since then they’d seen sales soar. The shoulder of his blue sweater slipped a little and Eric pulled it back up, flicking his eyes toward the phone.

 

Any minute now.

 

The telephone rang and Eric left his cup sitting on the counter, the spoon still slowly stirring the liquid. “Hello, thank you for calling Made with Magic, this is Eric –” he paused, listening. “Yes, we offer many types of readings. You can choose from palm, tarot card, tea leaves, aura, runes…” he trailed off, brushing his fingers through bright blond hair as he smiled. “Mmhmm. I’ll be here tonight until closing, that’s eight p.m. Yes ma’am. Thank you for calling!”

He hung up and returned to his coffee just as the bell by the door rang, signalling a new arrival. Eric looked toward the doorway as he lifted his cup to his lips, sipping the hot liquid. It looked like a group of curious guys, led by a young man with an impressive moustache. They were all rather tall and obviously athletic, save one very short young lady.

Most of their customers liked to browse in peace, usually. Eric didn’t make it a habit to follow people around – he could tell if they took something, anyway. It was such a curse to steal from a witch, he almost found it funny when anyone tried. But these guys looked new, so he figured he ought to at least say  _ something _ .

Swallowing his coffee, Eric lowered his mug. He hopped down off the stool and walked around the counter, his sneakers surprisingly quiet on the wooden floor. “Welcome to Made with Magic,” he said, offering the group a bright smile. “Let me know if I can help y’all find anything. We’re offering a sale on all our vigil candles today –” Eric swept an arm in the vague direction of the tall, wooden shelving containing row upon row of glass-encased candles. Two of the young men turned to look at them immediately. “– as well as our bath teas. Let me know if y’all have questions.”

Returning to his coffee, Eric noticed that he’d left the spoon stirring again. None of the customers, it seemed, had noticed such a small thing – sitting on the stool, Eric put the mug back to his lips. The coffee was hot and smooth from the milk, and he smiled a little as he tasted it.   
  
There was cinnamon in it that day. Cinnamon for protection, prosperity, good luck – someone must’ve made a new pot that afternoon. Eric knew he needed to finish his coffee and get back to stocking, but he decided to watch the exuberant young man and his friends for a little while instead.    
  
A tall blond poked through all the vigil candles, giggling over a few and making comments in a mock scary voice about the Santa Muerte candle. His similarly-sized friend seemed unnerved by the whole place, following his friends around and looking anxiously at the figural candles. Eric leaned his chin in his hand, watching them as he sipped his coffee. He turned his head just as the man with the moustache approached the counter with his dark-haired friend. 

 

“I mean, it’s just a chance to reaffirm your awesomeness, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You spent the entire walk over here talking about --”

“At the  _ least _ maybe he’ll tell us which team you sign with. You know, in the glaringly bright utopia that is your future?” the young man slapped his hand down on the counter and turned to look at Eric. “Right? Tell him.”

“See into your future, huh?” Eric grinned. “Well, something like that.” He quoted the small price for a basic palm reading. The dark-haired young man reached into his pocket but his friend waved him off.

“Naw, it’s on me. C’mon.”

 

He motioned toward the curtained area to the left of the desk. “I’ll see you in here, please. Ah –” he held up a hand, warding off the moustachioed friend’s disappointment before it spilled all over his counter. “Alone, please.” Eric smiled and stepped into the back to ask Lisa to cover the desk.   
  
As soon as she was in place, smiling brightly at the young men, Eric stepped into the curtained reading area, motioning for the young man to follow. It was a small space with dimmer light than the rest of the store, curtained off from the rest of the shop. The table was low, surrounded by a few pillows. A crystal ball sat off to one side next to a deck of cards. Eric set a candle down on the table before seating himself on the left side of the table.   
  
“Have a seat,” he said. Looking at the young man, Eric ran his fingers over his hair again, letting them trail softly over the shaved sides as he tilted his head. The scent of mint and lavender wafted up from the candle between them. “What’s your name?” Eric then reached out a hand, meaning to take the young man’s palm.

 

“Jack,” he said. After a moment of hesitation, he extended his hand.

“Hi Jack,” said Eric. He smiled again as he grasped Jack’s hand with an easy, but firm, grip. “Nice to meet you.”

Jack didn’t return his smile. His eyes were an incredibly light blue, almost colorless in the low candlelight. 

 

Right.

 

Flipping Jack’s hand over, Eric leaned forward. “So, I’m not really looking into your future,” he said. Letting out a soft laugh, he tilted Jack’s hand one way first, then another. “It’s more just learning about who you are,” he said. “But we’ll see where that takes us, won’t we?”

“Sure,” Jack said.

Jack had a short and deep life line, the kind of thing that signified some struggle. “Things haven’t been easy for you, have they?” Eric asked, voice soft. “Your life line is forked,” he said, “which means that your life… changed directions, rather suddenly, at some point. This break, here --” he tapped a short section of skin near Jack’s thumb, “shows me some struggle.” Glancing up at Jack’s face, he smiled. “But I think you’re comin’ along fine. Don’t you?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed.

 

Eric ran his finger over the line that extended across the palm, toward the little finger. “Now, this is called the head line. You often find yourself mulling things over – maybe a bit much – before coming to a decision. Maybe you’re a little over-analytical?” He flicked his eyes back up to Jack’s face. “A deep, long line is evidence of a clear, focused thinker.”

Drawing his finger along the the short, curved line that arced up and ended about a half inch below the base of Jack’s middle finger, Eric paused. “This is your heart line. I think it’s obvious that this line is about love.” He smiled a soft smile, illuminated by the candlelight. “You’re reserved. You like smaller groups rather than big ones. And –” Eric glanced back up again. “You open up best in one-on-one settings. Your heart line touches your life line, which means your heart breaks easily.”

Jack took a breath. He looked down at his hand in Eric’s, his throat moving with a quick swallow. “And?” he asked. “Is there more?” 

Eric smiled softly, running his thumb along the base of Jack’s fingers. “Of course there’s more, sweetheart,” he said. He lightly turned Jack’s hand in his again, feeling the shape of the hand beneath the fingers. The shapes of the mounds under each finger all meant something to him, told him something about the person in front of him. Eric sighed softly and the candle flame flickered, dancing light across his face.

  
  
The soft, sweet smell of incense curled through the curtain. Lisa must have been lighting a new stick or cone somewhere, ushering the scent through the store. Eric gently caressed the hand in his. Long fingers showed him a delicate person, perhaps a little anxious?   
  
”You’re shy, unable to communicate. You live in your head, but don’t share it with others.” He glanced back up. “You’re a bit of a loner, aren’t you?” Despite all those friends he’d come in with, Eric felt that the person in front of him was quiet and shy.    
  
”You should be careful about living so much in your imagination.” Eric slid his fingers back down Eric’s palm. “It can crowd out all sense of reality. I see that you love the arts, particularly –” he smiled, touching the edge of Jack’s finger. “Photography?” Eric took Jack’s other hand and leaned over it for a moment, staying quiet.   
  
Where was that sadness from? Eric turned Jack’s hand over and back up in his, looking for the answer. Perhaps cards would show more? As it was, he needed to wrap up this reading before he gave the young man more time than he’d paid for. A black cat slipped in through the curtain, winding around the legs of the table and staring at Jack with wide, bright green eyes.    
  
“You’re influential,” Eric finally said, “whether you know it or not. Intelligent, a natural leader –” Eric paused, pressing under Jack’s middle finger. “But you’re also terribly stubborn. You have a tendency to be alone. Depressed, maybe? Or perhaps you’re a bit cynical and shy.” He tilted his head, staring at Jack’s face for a moment. 

  
  
There it was.   
  
“Tell me about your father,” Eric said.

 

Jack turned his head, breaking eye contact with Eric. He glanced toward the black curtain before pulling his hand back. A muscle jerked in his jaw.

Ah. He’d hit a nerve, then. Eric blinked and bit his lip. Damn. He was still working on not sharing  _ everything _ he saw in a reading. Lisa said it was worth learning to tell what needed to be said and what didn’t. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I didn’t mean to upset you --”

“Jack!” The exuberant voice of Jack’s mustache-wearing friend cut in between them. “C’mon, man. Holster’s freaked Rans out about ghosts and now he’s fucking --” He pushed through the curtain. “You done, dude?”

 

“We’re done,” Jack said.

 

Eric could feel the relief coming off him in waves. He released Jack’s hand immediately, well aware that they were  **quite** done. As Jack exited the curtain, Eric stood, following him out. He watched as the friends paid Lisa and left the shop as quickly as possible. No sooner had the door closed behind the gaggle of boys than Lisa turned, putting one hand on her hip.   
  
“Guess you said something he didn’t like,” she said. “You have to work on that, Eric. We need  _ repeat _ customers, hmm?” Raising a brow, she held up the fee. “And you should’ve upsold yourself. Haven’t we been over this? Always offer them all types and then –”   
  
“He wouldn’t’ve paid for cards,” Eric said, waving a hand. “Forget it.” The cat padded back out of the reading room, jumping up on the counter. As Eric ran a hand over soft black fur, he sighed. “I’ve got stocking to do. Are you okay on the counter for a while?”   
  
Lisa switched the CD out for her preferred mix and waved him away. “Have fun. Make sure you inventory the herbs tonight, too. We’re definitely out of rue again.” Stirring her own cup of coffee, she smiled brightly as the door opened and a group of girls entered the shop. “Welcome to Made with Magic! How can we help you ladies today?”   
  
Eric passed by the giggling girls, ignoring their curious glances. In the basement of the shop, with his cup of coffee and the consistent company of the cat, he sorted through boxes of candles and carefully shelved a few of their more… specialty… items. His mind kept wandering back to that young man, recalling his rather unique eyes.   


  
It wasn’t often Eric got to read for such a pretty guy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original saying is "nothin says lovin like somethin from the oven" -- a version of "the way to man's heart is through his stomach".
> 
> I had originally intended this to be a multi-chapter work, so we'll see what happens.
> 
> The chapter titles do have meaning; all the things I'm choosing to use have magical uses.


	2. sage and sweetgrass

Eric went home after work still thinking about Jack and his hands. That sweet sadness around him kept tugging at Eric’s mind, and as he unlocked the door to his tiny studio apartment, he sighed a little. Jack was never coming back, was he?

Eric should’ve kept his mouth shut, all things considered. Dropping his keys in the little dish he kept on a table by the door, he sighed and rubbed at the shaved sides of his hair. What an unsettling day. The emotional force of Jack’s unnerving stare skittered along Eric’s nerves still, winding him up and stealing some of his breath. 

 

Unsettling days called for restorative action.

 

Heading into his kitchen, Eric pulled out a large mixing bowl and set it on the counter. He shuffled through ingredients in his cupboard, coming up with the basics for an apple pie. After lighting a red candle and a bit of sandalwood incense in the small niche to his left, he switched on the top 40 radio station and washed his hands. Losing himself in cooking would be the best thing for his spirit, Eric reasoned. He could always bring the pie to work the following day.

As he cut the apples, releasing their faint familiar tang into the air, Eric found his mind wandering back to Jack again.  _ It’s only because of that jawline _ , Eric told himself.  _ Anybody would remember a jawline like that. _ Dumping the apples in a bowl, Eric combined them with lemon juice and sugar and a pinch of cinnamon. Leaving it to sit, he began to work on the dough.

_ He just seemed so sad _ . Eric shook his head, letting out a soft sigh. Jack seemed like he had a nice group of friends. Eric had no reason to worry about him. He didn’t even know him, right? If he wasn’t careful, the pie would wind up sad, too. Looking down at his hands, Eric shook his head a little. “Get it together,” he told himself. No one liked a sad pie. He grated a bit of gryuere cheese into the crust.

 

The gentle light of the blue hour poured through the windows on the far end of Eric’s apartment, painting everything with a soft, sweet glow. Eric mixed dough together quietly, humming along with the radio. After popping the pie into the oven he curled up in a worn recliner, staring out the window with a cup of steaming herbal tea in his hands.

Breathing in the clean scent of chamomile and mint, Eric leaned his chin in his hand. After a long moment of reflection, he shook his head. He had a book to read! He had plenty of things to do! There was no reason to be sitting around feeling melancholy over a guy he didn’t even  _ know _ . Resolved to do  _ something _ about the lingering energy, Eric headed for his bathroom.

Scattering a packet of his own calming bath tea into the tub, Eric turned the squeaky handle and ran steaming hot water over the herbs. Rose, calendula, lavender, salt, and chamomile would help him relax, let go, and feel more ‘normal’. Taking a deep, steamy inhale, Eric sighed. He added a rose quartz crystal to the bottom of the tub, too, just in case. He swished a hand to set the water swirling and then stepped back out to check on his pie.

 

One the pie was safely out to cool, Eric gently blew out the red kitchen candle and turned off the light. He locked his door, murmuring a quiet plea for protection and restful sleep before stepping away. Night was already beginning to fall over the city.

After lighting some candles and stripping down, Eric picked a book up off the back of the toilet and flipped it open to the marked page. It was just a romance novel, nothing very heavy. Settling in to soak and read about two professors falling in love at Cambridge in the early twentieth century, Eric sipped his tea and attempted to focus on a bit of romance with a side of murder mystery.

 

… He ended up finishing the book that night.

 

The following day called for the book to go back from whence it came. Grabbing it on his way out the door, Eric stuffed it into his bag and made a mental note to run by Samwell University before heading home after his shift. He was opening that morning, so he knew he’d be out of work by five in the evening. That was plenty of time to get the second book in the series!

Scribbling a small note on a post-it, Eric tucked it inside the cover before leaving the shop. Making his way to the Samwell library, he stopped to pet a stray tabby cat around the corner from Made with Magic. Halfway to the library he paused to murmur a blessing over a busker’s hat. And, once he got to the library, Eric headed into the stacks immediately with the novel in hand to make sure he’d be able to find the sequel.

 

Fiction was tucked away in the corner of the library near a group of study booths. Eric checked the spine of the book in his hand and followed the little codes, looking for the second in the series. He was so engaged in looking for the right combination of numbers and letters that he took one too many steps to the right and ran into a small, ancient-looking wooden cubicle. The novel in his hand hit the table with a rather loud  _ bang _ as he reached out to steady himself.

A dark head leaned around the edge of the cubicle. “You okay?”

 

Jack.

 

“Oh!” Eric flushed. “Hi there! Sorry, I -- was distracted.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re the palm reader,” Jack said.

“That’s me,” said Eric.

Jack blinked. “Do you go here?” 

“Me?” Eric laughed. “God, no.” He held up the novel. “No. I’m just grabbing a book. Not, uh. Not stalking you or anything. Not a student, either.” He laughed again. “Fun reading.” Realizing quite suddenly that he was holding an incredibly gay romance novel up to a young man he barely knew, Eric flushed. “So, um. Have a nice day! Sorry again, for botherin’ you. Take it easy.” He turned around, clutching the book to his chest, and swiftly made for the front of the library.

 

Eric left the first novel on the table.

Jack picked the book up, flipping the cover open. A pale yellow post-it stared up at him, cheerful handwriting in blue ink gracing its face.

 

_ A little reminder… You are amazing! _

_ (Yes, you.  _ _ ♥ _ _ )  _

 

He looked up, but Eric was already gone.

 

When he’d finished working on his paper, Jack carried the novel up to the front. “Can I check this out, please?” he asked, handing it to the student working the circulation desk. 


	3. rose and pennyroyal

Waking up one Wednesday morning, Eric had the intense sensation that something important was about to happen. Sitting up, he glanced out the window. Greasy rain slid down the glass, illuminated by a pale sunrise.

Eric sighed. His cat stirred at the foot of his bed, arching her back. “Morning,” he said. Stretching both arms up over his head, he arched his own back, mimicking the cat’s posture. Running a hand over his hair, Eric yawned before swinging his feet out of bed. The shock of the chilled floor under his feet helped push him further into wakefulness.

Shuffling into the kitchen Eric set his kettle on the stove. Pouring coffee into a french press, he added a dash of cinnamon and just a little nutmeg to the grounds. Shivering a bit, Eric shifted his weight from foot to foot while waiting for the water to boil. It was incredible that the rain wasn’t snow.

After the kettle whistled and he’d poured hot water over the coffee and spices, Eric went to dress while waiting on it to brew. He tugged a blue sweater on over a blue and green plaid shirt, quickly adjusting his sleeves. On Wednesdays Eric opened the shop, which meant he needed to get moving. Once he was dressed, he returned to the kitchen and gently pressed his coffee, pouring the dark liquid into a travel mug immediately. Adding a splash of milk to it, Eric popped two pieces of bread into his toaster and sat down on the floor to pull on a pair of thick socks.

 

The shop wasn’t far from Eric’s apartment -- just two blocks -- but the chill of the wind and the dampness in the air made him grit his teeth as he stepped outside. Not for the first time he wished he could get Lisa to move in with her boyfriend already and give him the apartment directly above the shop. It would make getting to work so much more… pleasant.

Unlocking the door, Eric stepped into the shop with a gentle sigh of relief. He flicked the lights on and headed directly for the counter, setting his coffee down. Rubbing his hands together, he stood on his tiptoes to check on the prosperity candle before ducking into the back office to water the plants in the window.

Every morning started out that way. Eric didn’t mind getting up to open, so he usually came in first and he enjoyed the quiet morning hours. Lighting an incense blend of his own design -- sandalwood, violet, tuberose, and sweetgrass -- he left the office door open so that the heating would begin to permeate the chilly shop. Pale morning light flooded through the office window and Eric took a moment to sit down behind the counter, wrapping both hands around his coffee mug again. He closed his eyes, breathing in gently.

 

That feeling still shimmered along his nerves, a pale sense of vague anticipation. Opening his eyes again, Eric took a sip of his coffee. He supposed he could consult the cards. They rarely had customers so early, after all, so he normally had a bit of free time. Leaving his seat, he ducked into the reading room to grab for his personal deck.

Eric’s deck was all pastel colors and smooth, flowing images. It was a much more soothing and peaceful deck to look at than Lisa’s, which featured devilish art on many of the cards and strong, heavy black lines. Eric set the deck on the desk next to a chunk of rose quartz and settled in to pull a card or two in reference to his day.

Once he’d spend a little time just sitting and holding the cards and having coffee, Eric shuffled the deck. He pulled the first card off the top of the deck, setting it down in one crisp motion. The second card followed it, laid just to its left. Setting the deck aside, Eric flipped the first card over.

 

The Knight of Cups stared up at him, a swirling blue card where a rider on a horse stared up at a cup in a golden vortex. Tilting his head, Eric regarded the card quietly for a moment. The Knight of Cups was an invitation, a messenger. The cups were such an emotional suit, anyway, emotional as most things associated with water tended to be, and the Knight of Cups wasn’t an exception. It could be the arrival of a person or the arrival of a situation, but it definitely indicated that something was coming. Eric quickly flipped the second card, hoping for a little more information.

 

 _Death_. The card of sudden change, of endings and beginnings, of letting go of the past and moving forward. The image on Eric’s deck’s Death card was a phoenix, brilliantly red, rising in flames above a twisted lilac branch. It was a chaotic card.

“Oh,” he murmured, “so it’s going to be like **that** , is it?”

 

The bell over the front door jingled as it pushed open. Eric jerked a little, immediately placing a protective hand down over the tarot cards. “Hello?” he called. He tucked the deck of cards back under the desk and left his seat, coffee in hand. “Can I help you?”

 

Coming around the desk, he didn’t see anyone. Eric frowned again. He turned to the left and collided with what was possibly the most muscular chest he’d ever felt in his life. Jumping as his hot coffee splashed between them, Eric swore just a little.

“Shit -- I’m sorry! I didn’t see you!” Would it kill this guy to make some noise? “You know, the desk is this way --” he looked up and saw a pair of unusually light blue eyes.

Oh.

Great.

 

“Sorry about that,” said Jack.

Eric stared at him. “Uh,” he said. His gaze moved down from Jack’s chiseled face to his broad chest. He swallowed. “I think I got coffee on your…” he gestured with one hand. “Situation. There.”

“My situation?” Jack echoed.

Eric flushed. “Hang on,” he said. Turning away, he quickly went to set his coffee firmly on the counter and headed for the back to find a towel.

 

“His _situation_?!” he hissed to himself, digging around in the office. “For real?” Why did he say that? What had possessed him to say that? “Get a grip,” Eric muttered.

 

Coming back out with a tea towel, Eric found Jack standing at the counter. The coffee wasn’t terribly obvious on his black-and-red plaid shirt, but Eric knew it was there. “Here,” he said, holding the towel out. “I really am sorry.”

“Thanks.” Jack took the towel and gingerly pressed it to his shirt. “It’s really fine, it’s not that wet.”

“Right,” said Eric. He smiled. “So, uh. What can I help you with today?”

 

“Actually,” Jack said, “I was sort of wondering… about you.”

“Me?” Eric pulled his coffee cup close to his own chest. The further from Jack the better, right? “What about me?”

A muscle jerked in Jack’s jaw. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, though it really sounded more like a demand. “You do, right?”

“Uh…” Eric glanced to the side for a second before flicking his eyes back to Jack’s face. Was this some kind of weird trick question? “Yeah? You came in here with some friends a few weeks ago? I think I pissed you off pretty well, so actually, I wasn’t expecting to see you again.” He took a drink from his cup. “Ever, I mean.” He smiled. “But I remember you, of course. Jack.”

Jack frowned. “You read my palm but you already knew who I was, right?” he said. “That’s why you said all that stuff.”

 

What? Eric laughed, but in truth he was a bit offended. Jack was calling him a fraud, essentially. “No,” he said. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m… supposed to, like… recognize you from somewhere, or something?” He paused. “Are you famous or something?”

“Uh --”

“When you walked in here I didn’t know you from Adam,” Eric continued, his voice picking up a bit of heat, “and I certainly didn’t… _Google you_ or something equally creepy and somehow know you were coming ahead of time. And in fact, I don’t appreciate your accusation.” He rested a hand on the counter, leaning his weight on it as his hip jutted to the left. “I’m a _witch_.”

Jack blinked, his mouth opening just a tad.

 

“This is an _occult shop_ ,” Eric continued. “You paid for a palm reading. Right?”

“I did,” said Jack. “Well, technically, Shitty did. But --”

“So that’s what you got. And I’m sorry I brought up your daddy, as it obviously displeased you, but that doesn’t mean you can come into _my house_ and accuse me of readin’ up on you online.” Eric sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “Look, Famous Jack. I’m not giving you a refund just because you didn’t like what you heard, so --”

“I didn’t ask for one!” Jack glared at Eric.

“Good,” Eric said. “Because services rendered are _always_ paid for.”

Jack _blushed_. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said. “I was just wondering. It was -- it was really accurate. That’s all.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

“You weren’t _supposed_ to recognize me,” Jack continued. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one large hand.

He was cute when being sheepish. “It’s okay,” Eric said, relenting a little. “So now that you’re done questioning my authenticity, is there anything else I can help you with?” He smiled.

“Uh --” Jack shifted his weight from one foot to another.

Perhaps he needed a bit of guidance. “How ‘bout some tea?” Eric offered. “I blend it myself. I have a feeling you could use a little now and then.” Walking around from behind the counter, he reached up to the top shelf, popping up on tiptoes to grasp at a large container. The round sides slid from his grip and Eric bit his lower lip, stretching out his hand.

Jack reached right over him and took the container down. “You need a ladder,” he remarked.

Eric glanced at him before taking the container, tips of his ears turning red. “I manage,” he insisted.

 

Once he’d measured out about five cups’ worth of tea, Eric bagged it up and hand-wrote the little label explaining how it was to be made. “Now, I don’t take anything in this when I drink it,” he said while he wrote on the label with a blue sharpie, “just the tea is fine alone. If you like you can try a bit of honey, but it won’t be good with milk or anything like that.” Capping off the marker, he smiled. “It’s five dollars,” he said.

Jack fished a wallet out of his back pocket and handed over a crisp five dollar bill. “What if I hate it?” he asked.

“You can come back and let me know what you think,” Eric said, “either way. If you want.”

Jack picked up the small packet of tea. “I will,” he said. He hesitated by the counter for a moment, glancing at Eric again. “So I guess, uh. I guess I’ll see you around?”

 

“I’ll try not to spill coffee on you next time,” Eric said.

“I think my situation can handle it,” Jack said, a hint of a smile hovering around the corner of his mouth.

Eric almost choked on the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken. He cleared his throat. “Ah, yeah,” he said. “I’m sure you can handle lots of, uh. Situations.”

Jack’s smile dawned over his face slowly, transforming his face from handsome to absolutely breathtaking. That _smile_. Eric sucked in a quick breath. “Have a great day,” he said.

 

After Jack left, Eric sat back down at the counter, feeling a bit dazed. He leaned his elbow on the counter. The Knight of Cups hovered just in the corner of his vision, the halo around the rider’s head the same pale blue as Jack’s eyes. _An arrival_.


	4. gardenia and lemon

Jack didn’t come back for at least a month. Autumn continued to descend on Massachusetts and Eric found himself layering up and baking spicy quick breads and apple pies. He decorated Made With Magic with autumnal wreaths and burned sweet, spicy smelling candles and incense. Often he brought whatever he’d baked in to work with him, sharing it with customers and co-workers alike. The Equinox came and went, bringing with it as always that quiet contemplation on things that had passed as well as things to come.

Eric spent October doing inventory for the shop. Every day he went to work was a day in which his only task was to catalogue things on shelves or in basement storage room, his cat sitting lazily on the counter. When the door opened, he couldn’t help but turn to see if it was Jack -- and every time it wasn’t, he went back to his tasks with burning cheeks and a faint feeling of embarrassment. It was probably stupid to think about him so much. Right? They didn’t  _ know _ each other! It wasn’t like he’d asked for Jack’s number, or made any promises to see him -- and the reverse was certainly true. The only things that had truly passed between them were suggestion and possibility, and Eric knew that the universe had its own sense of time. That knowledge did nothing to ease his impatience, of course.

But eventually Jack did come back, bringing with him a biting swirl of near-winter wind as he breezed through the door one Wednesday morning. Eric had only just settled in to meditate at the counter, steaming cup of coffee in his hands like always, a cone of incense smoking at his elbow. He turned his head to look at the door as the cold air filtered toward him. When Jack came into view, his eyes widened.

“Jack,” Eric said, tightening his grip on his coffee cup -- just in case. He didn’t want a repeat of the… situation. He smiled what he hoped was a warm and inviting smile. “It’s been a while.”

Jack returned the smile a little, a curving at the corner of his mouth. “It’s hockey season,” he said, by way of explanation.

“You play hockey?” Eric loosened his grip on the cup. “I played hockey in high school. Just a little.”

“Did you?” Jack shifted his weight from one foot to another. His gaze traveled down over Eric’s figure and then back up. He glanced down at the incense as a plume of smoke curled up between them. “You’re a bit small for hockey,” he offered.

Eric laughed. “Uh,” he said, “yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.” He leaned his chin in his hand and smiled.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. He looked at the incense again. “That smells nice,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Eric. “I made it.”

“Like the tea,” Jack said. He paused. “What’s in it?”

“Herbs,” said Eric, tilting his head. Jack had such an intensity to him. It was unnerving. “Nothing that’d hurt you. Why? Is something wrong with it?” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Did you hate it? It’s okay to tell me if you did.” Tisanes could taste a bit grassy, and some people hated that herbal taste. Eric tried to sweeten some of his blends, but sweet or not, that grassy taste lingered in the corners of the mouth. There wasn’t anything for it, really.

“I didn’t hate it. It’s… actually really helpful,” Jack said. He glanced to the side, breaking eye contact with Eric. “I mean. You said it was for relaxation, right?” 

Had he said that? Eric couldn’t recall, but he knew that the label on the bag of tea probably suggested it. But why did that seem to be bothering Jack? If the tea was helping him relax, that would be a good thing. Wouldn’t it?

There was more to this visit than a friendly hello. Eric made up his mind quickly -- everything else he was doing could wait. The shop wasn’t busy, anyway. “Come sit down,” he said. “I’ll take a break. I’ve got a minute, anyway. Okay?” He pushed away from the counter, picking up his coffee mug. Taking one step back, he waved Jack around. “C’mon. You want some coffee?”

Stepping into the back office, Eric rummaged for another mug -- black ceramic with a purple pentagram and the words  _ get a taste of religion, lick a witch! _ emblazoned across the side -- and filled it quickly with coffee. He set it on the table next to the cinnamon pecan muffins he’d brought in that morning. “Go on,” he said, gesturing to a worn chair, “have a seat. You want a muffin? Cinnamon pecan. I made ’em last night.” Pulling the milk out of the mini-fridge, Eric set it on the table as Jack sat. Leaning against the fridge, he smiled as Jack slowly picked up a muffin. 

Bouncing up on the balls of his feet as silence stretched between them, Eric fidgeted until Jack lifted the muffin to his mouth. The brilliant surprise that lit up his handsome face was well worth the quiet wait. “Good, huh?” he said.

“This is amazing,” Jack said, eyes wide. He took another bite. “This is -- wow.”

Eric grinned. “So,” he said, “what’s up? Not that I’m not happy to see you. But why are you really here?”

Jack looked down at his coffee. “I don’t know,” he said, voice quiet. 

“Mmm.” Eric sat down. “You seem a little concerned about my tea,” he offered. “Did something happen?”

“I wasn’t expecting it to work,” Jack said. 

“That’s kind of you,” Eric said.

The bell above the front door jingled and Eric stood again. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “You just eat that muffin, all right?” He returned to the counter, where a middle-aged woman stood tapping her fingers with impatience. Eric offered her his brightest smile.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said. “Welcome to Made with Magic. How can I help you today?”

“I was told that you can be hired,” she said, “for…” She glanced over her shoulder.

Eric tilted his head.

“For  _ certain things _ .” The woman leaned closer to him. “Spells. Is that true?”

“It could be,” Eric said. “But it really depends on what you need.” He wasn’t supposed to accept requests for spellwork without first doing divination. Lisa was very clear about that when she hired him -- no blind work. He quoted her the price for consultation and she readily agreed, leaving Eric no choice but to usher her into the reading area. He ducked back into the office for a moment, frowning.

“Jack,” he said. “I have to see a customer. It will take a while. Would you --”

“It’s fine,” Jack said. “I have to go, anyway.”

“Oh,” said Eric. The wintry chill that had followed Jack in now seeped through his sweater, and he rubbed his upper arm with one hand. He supposed he couldn’t have expected Jack to just… hang around. He was a college student and an athlete. Surely he didn’t have a ton of free time.

Jack stood. “Thanks for the muffin.” He moved to step past Eric.

“Of course,” Eric said, quickly turning sideways to make more room. He looked up at Jack, both of them caught in the doorway, almost touching. He could smell Jack’s soap. “Uh --” Eric blushed. 

“I’ll see you around,” Jack offered.

Eric nodded quickly. He sucked in a quick breath as Jack pulled away. Stepping up to the counter, he took hold of his coffee mug and glanced down at the incense, wondering if he ought to put it in the back. A small chunk of warm, velvety golden stone caught his eye. Had he left it out by some mistake? Eric couldn’t recall it being there before, but he  _ had _ inventoried their tumbled tiger’s eye stock the previous night. He picked it up, turning it one way and then another, the striations in the stone catching the morning light.

_ Tiger’s eye. _ He looked at Jack’s retreating form. Tiger’s eye for  inner calm, for stability, for strength of spirit...

Of course.

Letting out a soft laugh, Eric shook his head. He darted around the counter and up to the front door, catching Jack just as he pulled it open. “Wait --” 

Jack turned.

Reaching out, Eric grabbed one of Jack’s hands and lifted it. Tucking the tiger’s eye into Jack’s palm, Eric smiled. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Just hold on to this. Call it a superstition, if you like.”

“All right,” Jack said. He looked down at the stone before tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. The corner of his mouth lifted in the faint beginning of a smile. “I’ll see you around, Eric.”

“Yes,” said Eric. “I hope you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [rhysiana](http://rhysiana.tumblr.com/) for your excellent edits. You are so appreciated.
> 
> [Here](http://8tracks.com/emmaleeeee/h-o-p-e) is a playlist I listened to while writing this.


	5. cinquefoil and chamomile

October bled into November, the energy in the air crackling along Eric’s nerves. For a witch in his tradition, the spiritual new year started after Halloween, and it always brought with it a rush of excitement. He loved that crisp, clean feeling in the air, loved the idea that there was a clean slate ahead of him.

Eric always woke up on November first feeling inspired. His reading on Halloween night had suggested that he needed to speak up for himself, and that was precisely what he intended to do. Splashing water on his face, Eric smiled at his reflection. “It’s going to be a great day,” he told himself, trying to imbue the statement with a sense of power. Rubbing moisturizer between his hands, he sighed. “I’m going to have confidence today,” he said, meeting his own eyes in the mirror, concentrating on his words. “The confidence to ask for what I want.” After pressing both hands to his face for a long moment, feeling the warm buzz of his intentions, Eric rubbed the lotion in quickly.

He still had a book to return to the Samwell library, and he had a hunch that if he timed it right, he might meet Jack there. Tugging on a thick blue sweater, he considered his options as he pinned a protective evil eye pendant just inside the bottom edge. Run by the library before work? It seemed the best way to maximize his time. Tucking an amethyst into his pocket for luck, Eric grabbed the romance novel before leaving his apartment.

Stopping at his downstairs neighbors’ door, Eric dropped off a batch of muffins for the two small children and their single mother. He kissed both children on the forehead before leaving, murmuring a quiet blessing. Eric made sure to smile at people in the streets, even if they didn’t smile back.

Staring up at the entrance to the Samwell Library, he brushed his fingers under the edge of his sweater, touching the evil eye. He could do this. He was prepared.

Eric stepped inside, shivering just a little. He went to the circulation desk, dropping off the romance novel in the book return. That done, he headed for the stacks. Hopefully Jack was a creature of habit and Eric would find him easily, studying in the same cubicle he’d been in before. When he didn’t, the force of his disappointment shocked him.

Carrying the third novel in the series to the circulation desk, Eric quietly set it down. It took only minutes to check the novel out, and once it was done, he looked around the lobby, sighing a little. There wasn’t any reason to hang around, not really. He’d banked on running into Jack and it hadn’t happened. He could take a hint.

Arriving back at the shop for his shift, Eric set his bag in the office and switched on the electric kettle. Pulling out a mug, he spooned equal measures of lavender and chamomile flowers into an infuser shaped like a cat, murmuring a soft plea for an extra measure of calm. That done, he went downstairs to check in with Lisa in the basement.

“All set?” she asked, not looking up from the table where she sat tying bundles of sage into smudge sticks.

“Yes,” Eric said. “Thanks. Are you…?”

“Mm, I’ll finish these and then go. You do your thing.” She smiled.

“All right,” Eric said. He returned to the office to pour hot water over the herbs. He carried the cup to the front desk just in time to greet a young woman. Smiling cheerfully, he helped her find what she needed before returning to his tea. The liquid was now a deep blue and Eric pulled the infuser out, careful not to spill on the counter. Perching on the stool behind the counter, Eric blew on the tea before carefully taking a drink.

When the bell over the door rang, signalling a new customer, Eric didn’t get up. “Welcome to Made With Magic,” he called from his seat behind the counter. “I’ll be with you in a moment!” He took another drink from his mug and brushed his fingers over the evil eye pinned inside his shirt before getting up. He rounded the corner of the counter quickly, leaving his cup sitting on the surface to cool.

Jack was standing in front of the shelf of candles, looking at them intently. He was gorgeous, like always, dressed in an inky black sweater that only made the light blue of his eyes more distinct. His cheekbones were absolutely breathtaking.

“Jack!” Eric stopped just next to him. “How are you? What brings you in today?”

Jack turned to him. “I ran out of tea,” he said.

“Oh!” Eric laughed. “Is that all? Come on. It’s by the desk.” He turned and led the way, the feeling of Jack right behind him making the back of his neck hot. Brushing his hands over the shaved sides of his head, Eric turned to smile at Jack once they reached the counter.

Jack smiled back.

“So,” Eric said, “do you want the same one? Or would you like something different?”

“Well, I thought I’d just get the same one,” Jack said. “But if you think I should get something else…” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m open to suggestion.”

Eric gestured to his cup. “Want to try mine?”

Jack looked at it. “It’s blue,” he said.

“Well,” said Eric, “yes. Yes, it is.” He laughed. “It’s just lavender and chamomile. It’s great for relaxation.”

“Were you feeling nervous today?” Jack asked.

“Oh.” Eric blushed. “I, uh. I had some plans that didn’t quite work out how I’d imagined,” he said. “Nothing too serious.”

Jack lifted the cup to his lips and blew softly on the liquid before sipping from it. Eric tried, and failed, not to stare. When Jack set the cup down and ran his thumb across his lower lip to wipe away a shimmering drop of liquid, Eric flushed.

“So?”

“It’s not bad,” Jack said. “Will it be as effective as the other one?”

“Mmm.” Eric pursed his lips while thinking. “Not quite. But I should have enough of that one made up, here --” He brushed past Jack and popped up onto his tiptoes, reaching for the cannister.

Jack let out a soft laugh and reached around Eric. His free hand grazed Eric’s lower back as he grabbed the container, pulling it down easily.

Eric swallowed against the hot dryness in his throat. “Thank you,” he said. Accepting the cannister from Jack, he set it on the counter and opened it, peering down into the herbs. “Ah. How much did you want?”

“Enough to last a while,” Jack said. “I don’t know.”

“Sure.” Eric walked back around the counter, taking out the plastic bags they used to package teas and carefully scooping some out. He paused, holding up a half-full bag. “This is about ten cups’ worth,” he said. “That enough?”

Jack nodded. “That’s fine,” he said.

Popping the lid back on the container, Eric set about labeling the bag with brewing instructions. Jack leaned on the counter, watching him. It took a moment for Eric to realize that Jack was looking at him expectantly. Had he said something?

“Hm?” Eric looked up at him.

“I said, do you work every day?” The corner of Jack’s mouth curved into a small smile.

“Oh!” Eric laughed. “Well. Not _every single day_ , but… most days, I suppose?”

A soft blush tinted Jack’s ears. “When are you free?”

“Well, we don’t have a lot of employees,” Eric said, “so I work most days. Sometimes I have Thursdays off. Oh! And we aren’t open on Sunday, so I never have to work Sunday.” He smiled. “Small business, you know. But I don’t mind, I like coming to work. The shop is kind of a soothing place, isn’t it? And --”

Jack looked a bit bewildered, eyes wide, and Eric realized, quite suddenly, that he might’ve missed a rather monumental social cue. Jack wasn’t just commenting on Eric working a lot. He was asking Eric when he was _available_.

“Oh,” Eric said, “or, um. Did you mean, like -- _free_ , free?” His face heated with an intense blush. Good _lord_ , first the situation and now this? Abysmal. Pathetic. “I mean -- um, I -- I’m closing the shop today,” he said, “but I’m not doing anything on Sunday. Or, um. Really I’m not that busy after work. But -- next Thursday. I’m free next Thursday.” He looked down at the tea in his hands.

“Do you want to come to my hockey game?” Jack asked. “It’s on Friday night. Are you free then?”

“I --” could be. Might be. Could arrange to be. “Yes,” Eric said. “I’d love to. At the school?”

“Yeah,” said Jack, as if Eric had said something funny. “At the school.”

“Okay.” Eric pushed the tea across the counter.

Jack pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “Okay,” he said.

“Great,” Eric said. “Yes. I’ll see you then. Oh! That’ll be -- well, you can see the total there, I guess!” He accepted Jack’s money, still blushing. “I hope you like the tea!”

“I’m sure I will.” Jack pocketed it quickly. “So I’ll see you Friday?”

“Yes!” Eric leaned on the counter. “I’ll see you then! Um --” he bit his lip. “When is then, exactly?”

“Seven,” Jack said. He paused. “Do you have a pen?”

“Of course.” Eric plucked a pen out of a cup on the counter and handed it over.

Jack grasped Eric’s wrist, flipping his hand over. His grip was warm and firm, and Eric’s skin tingled where Jack touched it. He scribbled numbers across Eric’s palm quickly. “Here’s my number,” Jack said. “You can text me.”

“I’ll do that,” Eric said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much rhysiana & editingatwork for your edits. I appreciate y'all's time so very much.


	6. mint and cinnamon

Lisa took Eric’s Friday night shift, and he didn’t even have to ask twice -- though he  _ did _ have to endure more than what he considered his fair share of teasing. Lisa had noticed Jack’s repeated visits to the shop. Apparently, Eric seemed bubblier than usual after seeing Jack. She called him  _ sparkly _ .

The rest of the week went by in a blur. The shop was busy with a steady stream of people beginning their holiday gift shopping as well as the usual amount of regular clientele. Eric found himself doing more tarot readings than ever, and he seemed to be picking up more than the usual amount of romance-related questions. The shop ran low on three kinds of tea all in one day, Eric booked two palm readings back to back, and just when he’d finished scheduling an evening tarot reading over the phone, he realized he had barely a half hour before those palm readings and the afternoon supply delivery. Jack left a ticket in an envelope at the desk while Eric was at lunch. His handwriting was dark and neat, and Eric tucked the envelope into his pocket with a soft smile.

Come seven on Friday night, Eric was sitting in the rink to watch Jack’s hockey game. The ticket was for a ‘player guest’, putting him in a separate section from the students -- he was joined by someone’s grandmother shortly after arriving. Eric was seated close to the ice and the players’ bench, giving him a great view of the game. He’d worn a comfortable coppery sweater and jeans, and as he nervously waited for the game to start, he slid a hand into his jacket pocket and wrapped his fingers around a small agate stone in his pocket. It wasn’t cheating to hope for protection for a player, right? Even Eric’s dad carried a good luck charm to football games.

Nah. Eric smiled as soon as he saw Jack. Should he wave? Would Jack even see him? The benches were close to each other. Deciding to go for it, he waved and smiled brightly. Jack smiled the tiniest of smiles back.

The game went by in a blur. The grandmother sitting near him -- apparently her grandson was the one with the last name Nurse? -- was a lively spectator. Eric couldn’t really focus on anything other than how incredible Jack looked on the ice; he was all focus and determination, even when he was sitting on the bench. It was hard not to wonder what it might be like to experience that intensity in other situations.

After the game ended with a win for Samwell, Eric and Jack exchanged a flurry of texts in an attempt to figure out where to meet up. In the end, Eric simply waited for Jack by a designated exit, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Once he caught sight of Jack, a grin flashed across his face.

“You guys were great!” Eric said. “Congratulations.”

“I’m glad you came,” Jack said. He was wearing that black sweater again, that and a pair of jeans that hugged his ass in a way that was probably illegal in at least five states.

“Of course!” Eric grinned. “I had fun. Thanks so much for inviting me.” He paused. This night couldn’t be over already. It wasn’t even that late! And he hadn’t really gotten to see Jack at all. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

Jack tilted his head. “I could be,” he said. “Why? Are you?”

“I thought we might go to The Diner,” Eric said.

“Which one?”

Eric laughed. “The one that just says ‘diner’ on the sign,” he said. “Do you know it? They have breakfast all the time. Checkerboard floor.” At Jack’s blank look, he reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

The Diner was a small family-owned place, the kind that stayed open quite late and only took cash. Their menu never changed -- Eric was sure the menu hadn’t changed since the day they’d opened. The booths were upholstered in old red vinyl, and an old jukebox stood in one corner. Eric loved the place. On the rare nights he  _ did _ go out with friends, they often ended up sitting in a booth at three a.m., devouring stacks of pancakes and talking. It seemed like the perfect place to take Jack.

They sat in the smallest booth in the whole place -- tucked away in a corner, just how Eric liked it. The waitress set coffee in front of the both of them and Eric wrapped his hands around the cup, thankful for its warmth. “Cold out, huh?” he said.

“It’s not that bad,” Jack said. A soft smile played around the corners of his mouth.

Jack ordered a ridiculous amount of eggs and bacon, citing a need for protein after his game when Eric gaped at him. He asked for a side of pancakes, too, and Eric wondered where he was going to put all that food. How could it all fit in one guy’s stomach? As usual, Eric ordered blueberry pancakes for himself.

“So,” said Jack, as they waited for their food to arrive, “were you looking out for me?” He was smiling, his tone of his voice light as if to indicate that he was joking.

Eric grinned. “Just protection,” he said. “Why? You want me to bring you luck?”

“I think you did,” Jack said slowly, “just by being there.”

Eric blushed.

They stayed at the diner for two hours. It wasn’t  _ meant _ to be two hours, but somehow they managed to while away the time talking about anything and everything. Jack was a history major, Eric learned. He liked photography. For every question Eric asked him, Jack asked one in return, and Eric ended up talking about his grandmother and baking and his cat. They talked about witchcraft and Eric’s tea recipes and the holidays his family celebrated. Jack ate every single thing on his plate  _ and  _ tried a bite of Eric’s blueberry pancakes, too, and they both ordered hot chocolate when they finished.

It was only once Eric had gone to the bathroom and returned to their table that he realized it was past midnight. “Gosh,” he said, sitting down. “We’ve been taking up this table for a while, haven’t we?”

Jack looked at his watch. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess we have.” He leaned his chin in his hand.

“I should probably go home,” Eric said. “I have to work tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Jack said. He stood, waiting for Eric before moving to the front. After he paid -- overruling Eric’s objections -- Jack held the door for him. “I’ll walk you home, okay?”

“Okay.” Eric flushed. As they walked quietly down the slushy streets, he rubbed his upper arms. He should’ve put on another layer! 

“Here.” Jack slung his jacket over Eric’s shoulders easily. He didn’t seem terribly bothered by the night air.

The jacket was still warm. Eric snuggled into it without thinking, pulling the collar up closer to his neck. They strolled along, still chatting about school schedules and what kinds of things Jack had taken pictures of. Jack casually promised Eric to show him some of his pictures ‘next time’, a phrase that sent a little thrill down Eric’s spine. 

“This is me,” Eric said as they reached his building. They paused on the sidewalk. He slid out of Jack’s coat, handing it back to him with only a little hesitation. As Jack took it from him, their fingers brushed, Jack’s skin hot against Eric’s. He bit his lower lip. “Thanks for tonight,” he said.

“Any time,” said Jack. He stared down at Eric for a moment. A cold wind stirred Eric’s hair, and Jack took a breath. “You should get inside,” he said. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah,” Eric said, “okay.” That was it, then. Right? He turned for the door.

Jack’s hand caught at his, warm and solid. “I’ll see you around?” he said. “Soon, I mean?”

Eric curled his fingers around Jack’s again, only for a moment. “Yes,” he said, fingers tingling with a light, bubbly energy. “Text me. Okay?”

Jack rubbed his thumb slowly across the back of Eric’s hand before letting go. “I will,” he said. “Good night, Eric.”

Eric’s breath caught in his throat. He stared up at Jack, unmoving, before a sound startled him back into reality. He was just  _ standing _ there! Embarrassing. He flushed. “Um, ‘night, Jack.” Eric quickly escaped into his apartment building, hearing the door shut behind him.

That warm, fizzy energy clung to Eric all the way up the stairs to his unit’s front door. Once he was safely inside, he leaned against it, tipping his head back. He couldn’t stop smiling.

There was no way he’d be able to go right to bed like that. As his cat wound its way around his ankles, toying with the hem of his jeans, Eric laughed. Clearly she could sense his good mood. Resolving to put that happiness to good use, Eric moved into his kitchen to make a batch of candles for the shop.

Eric hummed lightly to himself as he set the small tealights down on a cookie sheet. Letting it rest on top of the stove, he turned on the burner. Once the white wax melted, he carefully dripped cedar and cinnamon oils into each tiny metal cup, following it with a pinch of powdered frankincense and soft golden glitter. They sold the candles he made in the shop for the holiday season, and already his Yule candle stock was low. 

He enjoyed creating candles for the shop, really. Both Eric and Lisa kept up with the candle stock, but they tended to divide the job up based on who preferred what type of spellwork. Lisa always took care of the money, prosperity, and protection ones, while Eric always did the love, holiday, or harmony-related candles. He’d never had a personal connection to his romance candles, usually simply relying on his penchant for taking care of friends and family to imbue them with the right intent. How much more effective would these be?

Tipping crushed rose petals into a second set of tealights, Eric paused for a moment before adding rose and jasmine oils. He grabbed a tiny jar filled with rose quartz chips and gently dropped one chip into each candle. Smiling softly, he thought about the warmth of Jack’s coat around his shoulders, the gentle brush of his hand again Eric’s. Eric added red clover and a pinch of catnip, both lucky in love, to each candle before setting them aside to cool.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. It was a text from Jack.

_ I had a great time tonight. When can I see you again? _

Eric smiled.  _ Sunday _ , he sent back.  _ Come visit me _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to rhysiana, editingatwork, nhhell, and des-zimbits for edits. :) I apologize for this chapter because it's a bit... dull. But it is what it is, you know?
> 
> Feel free to [visit me](http://zombizombi.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


	7. holly and ivy

Eric saw Jack almost every Sunday after that -- and some days in between. Twice they had coffee, once lunch. After their fourth date, Eric had asked if Jack wouldn’t mind coming to his apartment for coffee instead -- it would save them both some money, and he liked his little space. Bringing someone into his home was an important gesture for Eric; he was careful about the people and energy he allowed into his space. 

When Jack came over the first time, he’d asked careful questions about Eric’s altar and herb cabinet, inquiring before touching anything. Eric made scones and they chatted over tea, talking about tradition and religion and, somehow, hockey. That was Eric’s favorite date yet, and when Jack asked if Eric minded him coming over mid-week to do some homework because his apartment was “a quiet, comfortable place,” he’d said yes immediately.

Eric let Jack in while he was on break. “Would you like tea or anything?” he asked, lighting the mint candle on his coffee table to assist concentration and promote memory. “I have some triple-berry pie left, too, if you’re hungry. I have to go back into work for a few hours, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“Tea and pie would be great,” Jack said. “Are you sure you don’t mind me --” he waved at the sofa. “Just being here?”

“I like you being here,” Eric said. He flushed immediately -- what was he thinking, saying stuff like that? “Uh -- you can keep my cat company,” he added. Clearing his throat, he went to the kitchen, plating a piece of pie and switching the burner under the kettle on. Opening his cabinet, Eric surveyed his tea. “Jack? What kind of tea would you like?”

“Anything is fine,” Jack said, voice closer than Eric expected.

Eric turned around, almost bumping into Jack in the process. “Oh,” he said. “Well! How about just plain green, then?” He backed into the counter a little before turning back around, going up on his tiptoes to reach for the tin of sencha green tea.

“Sure,” said Jack. Leaning forward, he placed a hand on the counter just next to Eric’s hip. “Need me to get it out of the cabinet for you?” His voice was warm.

“Thank you, Mr. Zimmermann, but I can get it myself,” Eric replied. His fingers could  _ just _ grasp the edge of the tin enough to tip it over, and he caught it in his hand before it fell. “See? No problem.” His back was almost flush with Jack’s chest. Eric swallowed.

“Thank you.” Jack took a step back. “It’s really nice of you to let me study here.”

“Oh, sure, it’s not a problem -- I’m sure it’s loud at your place a lot, huh? All those roommates.” Eric busied himself with measuring the correct amount of tea into a tea ball, dropping it into his biggest mug. Once the kettle sang, he poured hot water over the tea and set it by the pie plate. “Okay,” he said, checking the time on the oven clock. “I have to go. Is there anything else I can get you before I go? There’s blankets on the sofa, if you get chilly, and if you get hungry again and want something else, I think I have --”

“I’ll be fine, Eric,” Jack said. “Thank you.”

“Well, all right, then. I guess I’ll see you later,” Eric said. “I, um. I can leave my key, if you want, and you can just drop it off with me if you --”

“I can stay until you come home,” Jack said, interrupting again, “uh, unless you want me not to.”

“Oh!” Eric’s face heated with a blush again. “Yeah,” he said, “okay. Um. I’ll see you later, then! Study hard!”

He barely felt the chill in the air on his walk back to work. Did this mean Jack would stay for dinner? Eric didn’t have anything planned! Should he stop by the store on his way home to get groceries? He could probably whip up a quick dinner for them when he got home. Preoccupied with thoughts of recipes, Eric almost walked right past the store.

By closing time, Eric had decided on roasting some vegetables and cooking fish -- it’d be fast, easy, and healthy enough for an athlete. He knew he had broccoli and carrots at home already. After locking up, he stopped by a shop to pick up some fish. The rest of his walk home was dark and cold, and by the time he opened his apartment door, Eric was shivering just a little.

Winter. He was always cold this time of year, even with extra layers and thick socks.  Eric pulled the door closed behind him, easing into his apartment. It was warm and cozy, the mint of the candle scenting the air. Jack sat in the corner of Eric’s old grey sofa, a fading multicolored quilt draped over his lap. Leaning his head on one hand, he had a history book propped open on his lap. Eric smiled. “Hey,” he said.

Jack looked up from his textbook. “Hey.” Sitting up straight, he shut his book. “Did you have a nice shift?”

“The shop’s pretty busy this time of year!” Eric set his bag down and shrugged out of his coat. “Holidays and all. The solstice is coming up, so we’ve been selling a lot of stuff for that -- oh, that reminds me! I should make some more candles tonight.” Hanging his coat up, Eric carried his bag to the kitchen and set the fish on the counter. “I got some things for dinner, it’ll only take me a little bit to put it together. I can’t send you off home without a hot meal!” He laughed.

“You’re making dinner?” Jack had followed him into the kitchen.

“Oh,” Eric said, pausing with the refrigerator door still open, carrots in one hand. “I thought I would. D’you need to go?” He shut the door. “I guess I didn’t think about that, gosh. I’m so sorry. Well, I -- did you get some good studying done? I hope you were comfortable, was everything --”

“I can stay,” Jack said, cutting him off. “I just didn’t know that was the plan. Do you need any help?”

“You can wash and slice vegetables for me,” Eric said. “If you want.”

Jack washed his hands before taking the vegetables from Eric. While he cleaned and sliced them, Eric dropped the fish into a bowl with some spices to marinate. He mixed herbs and olive oil for the vegetables next, using rosemary for romance, garlic and basil for protection, and pure sea salt. Once Jack finished with them, Eric took the vegetables and tossed them in the oil and herb mixture before laying them out on a cookie sheet and putting them into the oven.

“I’ll do the fish last,” he said, “since it won’t take long.”

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Jack asked.

“Nope!” Eric grinned. “That’s it!” He washed his hands and set a small timer. “Did you get all your studying done?”

“It was a productive afternoon.” Jack smiled. “The pie was great, too.”

“Oh! I’m so glad you liked it! That one’s a family recipe, only I tweaked it  _ just _ a little -- you know, just trying to make it mine and all -- I think it came out all right, all things considered, but next time I’ll…” Eric continued to ramble about pies for a little while before he realized what he was doing. “Oh, gosh. Listen to me. Just going on.” He pulled out a skillet. “You can tidy the table for me, if you want, and I’ll do the fish now.”

They ate dinner together off Eric’s mismatched china at the small kitchen table, Eric’s cat winding her way around their ankles now and again. When they finished, Eric washed the dishes while Jack dried them, both of them crammed into the apartment’s tiny kitchen. Eric made a cup of ginger tea for each of them before heading out to sit down on the sofa and enjoy not being on his feet. Curling up in the corner of the couch, he wrapped his fingers around his warm mug and sighed. “I love the holidays,” he confessed, “but sometimes they’re just… exhausting.”

“Yeah,” said Jack, “there’s a lot to do. It’s right in the middle of our season, so I won’t really be taking much time off. And there’s exams, of course.”

“Right!” Eric laughed. “Of course! Hockey. And tests! You’ve got more going on than I do. I was just whining about retail work, goodness.” He took a sip of his tea. “I really don’t have any reason to complain.”

“Retail work is hard.” Jack shrugged. “All those people. And you’re so nice to everyone when they come in the store, I’m sure that’s… draining.” He cleared his throat. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?” Eric sat up a bit straighter. “Go on, then. I don’t mind.”

“Well, you know I’ve found your tea really helpful over the last few months,” Jack said. “So I thought I would ask you if you would recommend one for me to give to my mom? For Christmas, I mean. Something that’s kind of warm and… comforting, I guess.”

Bless him. “Of course I can,” Eric said. “Actually, I’ll do better -- I can make something just for her. For you to give to her. Do you know what she likes?”

“She drinks green tea and peppermint tea a lot,” Jack said. “But other than that, I don’t really know.”

“That’s fine,” Eric said. “I’m sure I can manage. Can you give me, say… a week? I can have something ready for you by then.”

“Thank you,” Jack said. “Take all the time you need. I’m sure it’ll be exactly what I’m looking for.” His smile was soft and sweet, his eyes focused on Eric’s face.

Goodness. Eric was going to have to come up with the  _ perfect  _ tea.

Every December, the shop smelled like cinnamon and clove and practically nothing else. Eric’s latest batch of candles, minty silver-and-blue creations that evoked snow and ice, glimmered across the way in their careful stack on the display table. Eric’s Yuletide tea blend was flying off the shelves. So far, November had been the best month of his year, and December was shaping up pretty nicely. 

Eric stayed in the shop a bit late after work for a few nights, smelling different herbs and trying to come up with the perfect blend for Jack’s mother. He wanted something light, but not  _ too _ light. It needed to evoke a sense of happiness and ease. It should be warm, like Jack, but quiet. 

He ended up with a blend of peppermint, blackberry leaf, linden, lemon balm, and marshmallow leaf. It had a green, bright taste, balanced by a hint of berries and mint. Together, the herbs would provide a steady and calm sense of good cheer, ward off bad feelings, and bring a bit of peace to any day. It seemed like just what Jack was looking for. Eric packed it in a cheerful red tin patterned with gold snowflakes. 

December was a whirlwind of a month, keeping them both busy. After being delayed by hockey and school, Jack stopped by the shop five days before the solstice. He stepped in with just ten minutes to spare; Eric was already straightening shelves in preparation for locking up. There was one last customer waiting to check out -- she had her items at the front desk already.

“Hi, Jack.” Eric smiled softly. “I have your tea in the back. Let me just take care of this customer, okay?”

“Sure,” Jack said.

“Great.” Eric turned to walk away but then spun back around. “It’s nice to see you,” he added. “I’ll be right with you.”

Jack’s answering laugh warmed his stomach.

Heading to the front, Eric quickly rang up the woman’s purchases, inquiring as to whether she’d found everything she needed. It didn’t take long, and after checking the time, Eric followed her to the door to see her off. He locked it behind her.

That done, he went back to the desk. Jack was peering at his Yule candles, gently pressing a finger to the glittering wax. Eric slipped into the back, grabbing the red tin of tea. When he came back to the counter, he cleared his throat.

“Here it is!” he said, holding up the tin. “I even made it pretty for you.” Popping the lid off, he held it out. “What do you think? I kept a little back in case you’d like to try it yourself.”

Jack leaned in, carefully smelling the herbs in the tin. “Oh,” he said, voice faintly surprised, “it smells great. What is it?”

“A little of this, little of that.” Eric laughed. “D’you want to try it? I can make some water real quick.”

“I trust you,” Jack said. He closed the tin. “It’s just what I needed.” His thumb stroked across the top of the tin. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“It’s just always right,” Jack said, “whatever you do for me. It’s always exactly what I needed.”

Eric flushed. “Well. I do have a knack for some things,” he admitted. Laughing a little, he rubbed the back of his neck. “So, um. I was wanting to ask you, since you’re, you know. Here and all… Do you wanna maybe… come to my place for Yule?”

“When is it?” Jack asked. “Is it the same as Christmas?”

“Oh,” said Eric, “no. It’s just before Christmas. The twenty-first. I guess --” he paused. Jack might not even be in town. He’d probably go home to Canada for Christmas. “I guess you might go home, huh? I didn’t think about that.”

“Maybe I’ll go home after,” Jack said. 

“Oh, no, I don’t want to take time away from your family,” Eric said. “It’s no big deal. I just thought, you know, if you’d be around --”

“I’d like to,” Jack said. “Really. I’ll go home after.” He paused. “Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just bring yourself,” Eric said. “I’ve got everything else.”

They walked out together, Jack poking fun at how many layers Eric piled on before leaving the warmth of the shop. His walk home felt a little warmer than usual.

The shop stayed closed on Yule. After spending his morning baking, Eric set candles all about his apartment mid-afternoon, careful to set them in the cardinal directions as well as the windows while he admonished his cat about staying out of them. Tipping some vanilla into a pot on his stove, Eric began simmering his favorite potpourri -- orange, cinnamon, clove, cranberry, and vanilla. Setting it swirling with a flip of his hand, Eric left the kitchen to survey his living room. He straightened a pillow on the sofa and draped a warm throw over the corner just  _ so _ before standing back to admire his efforts. Everything seemed in order. Eric’s cookies were already perfectly plated, he was wearing his favorite green sweater, and Jack was set to arrive at six.

The ritual Eric had planned wasn’t too elaborate. He’d originally thought that Yule would be a solitary holiday for him, so he hadn’t bothered with anything too fancy. His altar was simple, decorated with evergreen branches and mercury glass candle holders. They’d just be talking, sharing food and time, and lighting candles.

Hopefully it wouldn’t disappoint Jack.

He’d arrive right on time, of course. Jack Zimmermann was always punctual. Eric opened the door right at six to find Jack standing there in a black sweater, one hand raised to knock. “Hey there,” he said. “Right on time, huh?”

Jack lowered his hand. “How’d you do that?” he asked.

“Don’t look so shocked, you’re never late,” Eric said. “It was a lucky guess. Come on in.” Stepping back, he ushered Jack into his apartment, offering to take his coat. “Sun’s already down, so we can begin here shortly. I, um. I originally wrote this ritual thinking it’d just be me, so I hope you weren’t expecting anything too fancy.”

“I have a feeling it’s perfect,” Jack said. He sat on the sofa as directed and accepted a mug of mulled wine and a single white candle from Eric. Once he was sure that Jack was comfortable, Eric moved about his apartment and switched off every light. Heavy darkness blanketed the space, and he relied on touch and muscle memory to get him from the final switch to the sofa. Settling in next to Jack, Eric let out a soft breath.

“Well. As you know, the Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year.” Pausing, he took in the atmosphere of his home. A soft chill crept in from the windows. Sitting in the dark, Eric could hear the soft rhythm of Jack’s breathing next to him. “Although winter is here, life lies dormant beneath the soil. The spark of life lingers, ready to return when the time is right.” Every Yule he wrote simple questions to ask himself, reminders of how he wanted to face the coming months. 

Speaking in a soft voice, Eric posed those questions for both of them. “Contemplate the year that has been. What went well? Name it, and give thanks.” Falling silent, he reflected on the year. He’d successfully lived on his own, found a good sense of purpose and meaning in relying on his intuition. He’d met Jack. Giving thanks for him brought a hot blush to Eric’s face, and he was thankful for the darkness in his apartment that hid it.

Clearing his throat, Eric continued. “What went poorly? Acknowledge it.” He heard Jack’s sharp intake of breath. “What do you want to do differently in the coming year?” Eric swallowed before continuing. “Do not promise what you will not do.”

Jack let out a soft sigh in the dark. Eric always felt the weight of this part of the Yule ritual, the seriousness of making promises to himself that he knew he would have to keep. They sat silently next to each other in the darkness. Eric focused on his breaths, deep and slow.

Once he felt Jack lean back into the sofa, felt the release of tension in the air, Eric set his mug of wine carefully on the table he knew sat in front of them. Standing, he grazed his hand along the back of the sofa as he made his way to his altar. His fingers brushed Jack’s shoulders.

Touching the wooden table, Eric felt for his matches. “In times of darkness, one can sometimes find blessings.” He struck a match, holding it up as it flared to life in his hand. Eric bent to light the candles on his altar, gold and silver. “As the Wheel turns once more, we know that tomorrow, the Sun will begin its journey back to us. With it, new life will begin, a blessing from Earth to her children.” He felt, rather than saw, Jack stand from the sofa. Lighting the half-moon of tealights on his altar, Eric used the match until he couldn’t hold it any more. Turning to face Jack in the half-light of the apartment, his face illuminated only by the soft glow of the few candles he’d already lit, Eric smiled.

“So we, y’know,” Eric murmured softly, “give thanks for that darkness.” Taking a candle from the altar he moved forward, carefully lighting the candle in Jack’s hands. “And then we welcome the return of the light.”

Gentle fingers caught Eric just under his chin. Jack tilted his head up, leaning forward. Their lips met, warm and soft, tinged with spiced wine. “Thank you,” he murmured, as they parted, “for bringing your light into my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> [Here is the playlist](https://playmoss.com/en/strawberrydreamy/playlist/softhearted-witch) I listened to while writing this. I hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks so much for your kind comments! I appreciate you very much.
> 
> Thank you rhysiana for edits.
> 
> I'm gifting this to Reginacoeli, because she encouraged me to write it in the first place. :)


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